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| Purple Steeda's Geek Project |
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| Shadows dance on crumbling walls Echoes run down empty halls Somewhere near, a whisper calls The fearful to their knees. Passages are littered with fallen stones And piles of ancient bleachèd bones The whispers turn to chilling moans But now you feel what a blind man sees. Hell is here in this desolate place Lit by the moon's pale quarter face You try but know one cannot erase What you felt when those moans became screams. Your demons gather in a centre room And you meet them all in the eerie gloom Here you sense is the portal to doom By yourself in these nightmare dreams. 8/4/92 More at: www.myspace.com/purplesteeda |
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